


It Will Never Be Real

by Silver_Melody



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Child Death, Childhood, Children, F/M, Flowers, Imaginary Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Melody/pseuds/Silver_Melody
Summary: It was the same for Bernadetta. Wake up, eat when told, lessons with father, then cry to sleep. Rinse, wash, repeat.For the longest time, she thought nothing would change her fate. That she will end up a wife of a noble house that will help her father grow in power.That was till a friend came along. Or so they claim to be.But how can you be friends with someone that seems to be invisible to the rest of the world? Is it really just her imagination?Hiatus is over
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> This will be an imaginary friend au where Yuri is Brenadetta's imaginary friend. How far this is I have no clue but will see how far this goes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavender - a color of royalty, a flower of femininity, a refinement of both grace and elegance, a healing herb that is said to have a special place in nature by the Goddess who took care of the delicate and precious flower

She was crying when it all started.

Body pressed on the wall, almost like she wanted to become a part of the wallpaper that decorated her room, she cowered in the corner. Quaking and shaking, breathing coming in shallow huffs as she tried to will herself to stay silent as much as possible. For as long as possible.

Of course, she gets better at it but it never lasts long.

Her tears were running over her bruised cheeks, red and blue mixed to an ugly purple that the servants all avoided looking at.

She doesn't fault them, she can’t fault them. They were like her, just like her.

They were scared and hurt just like her.

Father was more brutal that day, he wasn’t calm like he uses to be when he came for her lessons like he always would. He was frustrated and furious, for what she did not know so she tried her best that day. Avoid eye contact, ask for no food, and sit still like a good wife she was meant to be.

But then her stomach growled and hell broke loose.

The next thing she knew she was in her room, dragged and locked away with the promise of no dinner for her unruly behavior as punishment.

The beating already felt punishment enough bet she didn’t dare say that out loud.

The sun had already set on the horizon when she still had yet to move from her spot in the corner. Every sound made her shake more in more.

All she could do was wait for either the monster to come or let her body shut down to sleep.

A particularly nasty sob came out of her throat when she had to breath again, she eyes blurred her vision as she came up to cover her mouth from making any more sound.

Before a hand grabbed them both.

Her first instincts were to run and hide, run away and never look back at the monster that was going to eat her alive.

But then her thoughts went back to that evening and she willed her body to freeze and not move, to wait and endure what was going to come.

She felt the ghost of a hand coming towards her head and she shut her eyes, waiting for a hit or a rough pull on her hair that was a violet mess.

Instead, the hand placed itself on top of her and slid down her head before pulling away. Then again it moved on top of her hair all the way down.

And again.

And again.

And again.

It was then she realized she wasn’t going to be hit at all.

She was being patted!

Patted!

But who-

“It’s alright.”

She never thought she could turn her head so fast before.

She expected her father, trimmed up beard and fury in his eyes. She expected a servant, with sadden but an understanding behind their face. She even expected her mother of all people to be there.

She did not expect to see lavender in person.

Or rather, a person decorated in lavender.

They were covered in that one color. Stalks of lavender were in their hair, carefully pinned in a way that they also managed to pin up their hair. There own lavender locks were pinned by the unnaturally bright flowers, only a few strands gently graced themselves on their face without making it look messy. A flowy tunic that was light in color that it glowed a soft purple, shiny and silky to the touch, long enough to cover up to their knees and leave their feet bear without any protection.

But what caught her attention were their eyes.

Like everything about them, they were lavender. But unlike the rest which was soft and gentle, their eyes were sharp and piercing, deep but true.

Then they spoke again.

“You should stop you know. Your eyes will be red in the morning.”

They- no, he let go of her hands (she didn’t realize he was still holding her hands) and moved it closer to her face.

Reactively she flinched.

That made the lavender stop.

She started to shake.

“You…”

She felt tears coming up again.

She messed up, somehow she messed up. She was going to be hit again, wasn’t she? She messed up. Like she always did. She wasn’t good enough….she was _never_ good enough. _Will never good enough_ -

A small light pressure made it on her cheeks.

She cried harder, knowing that something was going to happen.

But instead of the pain, a pain she knew she was supposed to feel, she felt a thumb brushing away the tears from her eyes.

Tears keep coming and the hands keep on wiping her tears away, over and over and over again.

Distantly she felt fingers combing through her hair as well.

Still, she kept on shaking and crying.

She was confused.

“....why?”

She didn’t know if the lavender answered back.

She woke up with the sunlight in her eyes.

Reluctantly she rubbed her eyes with a small yawn, careful to think why she was on her bed when she clearly remembers staying on the floor when it hit her.

A quick scan of the room told her that the boy was not there and she was about to dismiss it as wishful hoping. A fake promise of something more than just cages and screams.

Till she looked in the mirror and her eyes widened.

The bruise that seemed so permanent on her cheek was gone, her eyes she expected to be red and raw from all the crying were clear of any signs of tears or sleep. Her hair was neat, tied in braids and clean with an unexpected shine.

But that's not why she was surprised.

A single stalk of lavender was carefully tucked behind her ear.


	2. Dasiy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dasiy - purity and innocence, the cheerfulness of the children of the Goddess and the representation of holy new beginnings, a whole new transformation

It's a dream she told herself in the mirror.

It was her imagination she whispered as she stroked the lone dying lavender.

It wasn’t real she said as she lingered on her smooth cheeks.

But no matter how many times she may reason and deny, one look of her mirror would make her remember the solid hands on her head and the scent of soothing lavender.

And yet, why did it seem unnaturally beautiful? She never had anything beautiful, never could make something noteworthy. She couldn't even make herself pretended to be beautiful enough to avoid any insults or yells from her father.

So after two weeks, when the lone lavender stock in her vase beside her bed withered completely she decided it wasn't real and to play it as her imagination.

But it did not stop her from remembering it, while not real, it was the imagination of that night that gave her something to think about in the darkness of her room.

Even if was just for a bit.

Till it happened again.

Lessons thankfully ended, and instead of going to her room like she usually would do, to avoid any encounters with another human being, she buried herself in the leafy greens that are in the Varley’s greenhouse.

Within the hour, of finding that one no was in the area, hearing no footsteps looking for her, her shoulders eased and she allowed herself to sit on the ground. She invited the thought of dirt covering her dress, fingers becoming darker and hair growing frizzy from the humid air in the glass building.

A darker thought in the back of her mind reminded her that this was not how a good wife should act, that they should always see to that they are the perfection of beauty, always clean of anything with not even a sling wrinkle on their dress.

But then she remembered how her father would not care what she does after lessons as long as she comes in for tomorrow's lesson so she quickly pushed the thought away.

Still, she stood up and used the well on the side to clean her hands. After drying them she went to pat her hair down but after a few minutes of struggling to control it, she gave up and went to find something that might catch her eye.

The greenhouse, while no bigger than the average greenhouse that many noble houses may own, was still quite large, making everything to the little girl like she was in a magical forest instead of a glass cage.

But she shouldn’t dwell on that, at least not for the next hour, till she walks in for another quiet dinner with her mother without the company of her father at hand.

At least she wouldn’t have to see him then, but she should be careful around her mother. She is still the wife of Count Varley after all.

Reds, yellows, whites, and pinks dotted everywhere, taking the shapes of flowers and blossoms. Strong stems holding them up for Bernadetta to smell, and angled just right so that she could get a view of every single one of them.

She was nearing the end of the glass home when a small burst of color caught her gaze.

Both curious and excited over the new hues, she turned to take a closer look.

There, in the bushes of the many red roses were a small bundle of purple daisies.

While the lessons with her father may be terrifying, worse than any nightmare she may ever awaken from, she knew for a fact that purple was a rare color to obtain. Flowers were just dyes to the nobility, using the red to make banners of their empire, taking the pinks to decorate the noblewoman to perfection, using the whites to make handkerchiefs to fold neatly in their breast pocket for all to see. But even she knew that colors like blue and purple were hard to find. Colors like those are rare to find naturally, and even more difficult to try and grow.

That is why her father likes to dress in various shades of indigo, showing off his wealth to all those that may gaze at him. That's why he always made her wear something that was close to the shade of her hair. That's why her mother had a closet filled with dresses that rival the color of the sky, from daylight morning to midnight dawn.

So to see such a common flower decorated with such a rare color made her gasp in aware and pure delight.

Before the silent treasure that was her’s was interrupted with a voice.

“Of all the flowers in here, you stop for some daisies?”

She screeched, first out of fear that someone had found her with a smile on her face, thinking they may report her to her father or let their words slip and chaos will come raining down on her.

Then she gasped as she realized that the voice sounded too soft, too high to sound anything like the servants in the halls or the older aging butlers that she learned by heart.

Finally, her breath was stolen by her when she met the sharp gaze of lavender.

Except he wasn't lavender, well, he wasn't wearing lavender anymore.

Instead of lavender stalks that were weaved in his hair, he had a crown of daisies. No longer pinned down, his hair flowed freely, down to his shoulder where his hair rested. His tunic that used to be such a lovely light color was now deeper in hue, matching that of the daisies that were on his head. His feet, while still bare with nothing to protect him from the dirt that may have fallen on the floor, had a ring of daisies wrap around each of his ankles.

Everything about him had changed, everything but the color of his hair and eyes. Still the glowing shade of lavender against the darker color of daisies.

But one thing still came into mind.

He was here.

“Are you going to stare at me all day? I thought we were looking at the flowers?”

Desperately her mind caught on the words, startled and weary but her head snapped back at the eyes of the boy she thought wasn't supposed to be real, can't be real.

The not-so-real boy looked, if she remembered from those long times, back when nothing was but just a room filled with screams and insults in the Varley estate, was amused.

It's been a long time since someone made that sort of face around her. Usually, it was pity, sadness, or indifference.

So to see such an expression was… refreshing in a way. Exhilarating even.

But then the words once again registered in her mind and she became a cherry.

"I-I," she stuttered. "I-no...Sorry, I….didn't mean…. I mean-"

As a blessing, the boy smiles at her and moves from his side to look closer at the daisies she had come upon.

“So small… It’s kind of a wonder they could grow here, much less a violet shade. Although the color is quite beautiful, don’t you agree?”

This time, to her credit, did not have her face turn into the color of summer ripe strawberries from the question that was addressed to her. Unfortunately, her voice was still somewhat stuck from this meeting of sorts.

“I-I,” she sputtered out, her voice wobbly but not watery which was good. Had her father been here he would have yelled at her, but if her voice was close to showing that she was going to cry then she would receive more than just a raise of voice. “I-I think...I’m sure…I’m not....yes?”

Although her answer came out more like a question than a replay, the boy did seem content with it and went closer to the small batch of blossoms. Raising his hand he gently stroked each petal of each flower before coming to a stop from a petite size daisies in the back.

He hummed.

Before Bernie knew what he was doing, he plucked it swiftly but surprisingly with care that not a single root or speck of dirt clung on it and twirled it around his fingers as he inspected it.

His eyes twinkled. “Yes...this would definitely do.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that or why he suddenly turned to her like he found a candied sweet hidden in all the cabins in the kitchen.

What she did know was that he was but a foot in front of her, his hands tangled in her hair as she felt something poking at the skull of her head.

Of course, she did not take well to the sudden touch.

She squealed, not screamed because there was no need, not yet, as she jumped away from him, eyes shut tight in a panic.

He touched her, he touched her, hetouc _hedherhe **touchedherhe thouchedHER ~~HE-~~**_

The sound of a sharp whistle brought her back to reality.

A second, a minute, probably an hour really, was how long it took to realize that something was different.

She was alone.

Things were a blur after that.

She did not remember how her legs gave out in that wait.

She did not remember how she got up at the sound of the dinner bell.

She did not remember the servants cleaning her as best as they can before picking out her nightgown to wear.

She did not remember closing her eyes as sleep took its hold.

What she does remember as soon as she woke up was that she had made sure to hide the daisy in her hands all throughout the day, refusing to unclutch them no matter how persistent the maids were.

She remembered that as soon as she was alone she quickly placed the small delicate flower in the vase, arranging it, before she snuggled back into bed.

She remembers waking up to sight of a mostly dried up lavender and a brightly colored daisy.


	3. Zinnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zinnia - a flower with many colors and many meanings. Some say the Goddess gave her children each a different color with a purpose to represent each of them. the most rarest of them is those colored in magenta, for those that are given a magenta zinnia was a promises of lasting affection, one that is not so easily broken.

It’s been two months and the warm of spring quickly became the unbearable heat of summer. Most of the maids take advantage of these to clean sheets after sheets in the bright sun, cooks would have more berries and fruits sitting on the table to clench their dry throats, and everyone could wear thinner layers of clothing from the heatwave.

Unfortunately while this means less layers for Bernadetta this does not mean no long sleeves dresses that Father expects her to wear. So to say she was warm was an understatement.

She tried to stay cool, having keen length dresses instead of ankle deep with her hair arranged into a twisted bun with pins holding up her bangs from her face. She would wear socks instead of stockings and flats instead of the normal boots that she was expected to wear in her near mounted estate. Thankfully she was only given a disapproving glare from her Father instead of an outright objection so she wouldn't say anything to offend him or anger him.

As of right now, lessons with her Father were over for the day and she chose to hide back in her room this time. She would have gone to the greenhouse but she was going to have dinner with both her parents so she would rather not get dirt on her dress. Not that she mind but her Father most definitely would.

So while she waited for the dinner bell to ring she busied herself with sewing. Currently her Mother was teaching her the more lady-like habits of a lady of the household. She doesn’t quite understand what she meant by that but her Father didn’t disapprove so she went along with it. And that was when she learned about sewing.

Currently her latest project was that of a hand sized doll, small and petite but it was challenging enough for her to put more effort then her usual projects of simply making designs of flowers or their family crest. It was almost done, needing to have the clothes that she made to be sewed on and her hair to be finished.

While she might be great at sewing, having picked it up quite quickly from when she was first taught how to thread and mend, she still could not stop making beginner mistakes.

Like poking her finger so that it bleeds.

Quickly Bernie dropped her doll with an eep of surprise and a slight bit of pain. Moving her needled and unfinished doll with her uninjured hand as she looked over her index finger, the one she poked.

She whimpered.

How was she going to hide this from Father throughout dinner?

“Well if you give it here it might not hurt that much.”

Most would say third time's the charm but for Bernie it just means that this was going to be a threat to her if it keeped on counituning.

So it was no surprise when she screeched as she flinging her doll to the voice that called out to her.

A huff escaped the lavender boy’s lips as he easily dodged the doll ambush.

Then Bernie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped.

“Y-you!”

An unimpressive glare looked her way with another annoyed huff. “Me.”

She shrunk back. “I-I-I… what do-o y-y-you want?”

The boy raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Well for one for you to stop attacking me. Unless that is too much to ask.”

An embarrassed sound squeaked out of her as she curled herself into a ball.

“Now now,” a hand reached to grab and pull her out of her defences, earning a protest from the girl which the lavender boy ignored. “None of that. You’ll never get anything done if you stay stuck there all day.”

“B-but-,” Berine tried to stop from getting pulled back to her original spot in the middle of the room when something unexpected happened.

She was booped on the nose by a flower.

Her eyes widen by the blossom in front of her.

It was a fluffy looking flower, layers and layers of flower petals in a deep rich magenta. The middle was covered in a ring of yellow pollen with a soft looking stem and lime green leaves coming from the base of the flower. It was a beautiful flower. A zinnia.

It was then that she also looked up to really see the lavender boy as well.

His hair was braided into a french braid, left to lay comfortably on his shoulder, a zinnia pinned at the end of his braid. His white tunic was shorter than the ones he had before, where they reached all the way to his ankles. This time it reached only to his hips, tied by a white cloth with a dark purple pair of pants that reached his ankles instead. His feet were still bare but his wrist were both wrapped in many magenta zinnia’s that made his hands seem small. Lavender eyes started at her in patience, a smaller but still fluffed out zinnia flower tucked over his ear.

It was then she remembered the other times he had come, but questions on how he was able to come was growing bigger and bigger the more she stared.

“H-How do-o you f-find-d m-m-me?” She stuttered.

There was a pause, a sort of tensed sort of silence before the lavender boy snorted and raised a hand over to cover his smile. “With hair like yours, bright purple and messed up curls? You’re not that difficult to find, you know.”

Bernie was never a fighter, no matter how many times her Mother tried to make her see children her own age or how many times her Father would yell at her she would not stand up for herself and would rather choose to hide in her room till the night came. She would always choose flight over fight.

But for some reason, when the lavender boy said that she was offended.

“M-my hair is not bad,” she squeaked and pouted. “A-and you can’t s-say that. Y-your hair is purple like-e mine!”

There was a soft second of quiet before Bernadette realized what she had done and went to raise her hands to cover her mouth in horror.

She was going to apologize, bow and cry when she knew she was never to talk back to _anyone_ because it meant she was going to be _punished_ when she heard laughter coming from in front of her.

Lavender boy laughed and laughed and laughed. His laughter was bright but sharp, refreshing but cold. It was like the rainy days and moonlight, so rare yet so real.

It was enchanting.

She wanted to hear more.

Lavender boy moved a finger under his eyes to wipe the tears he had, smile small but no less blinding when he moved his hand to the flower tucked over his ear.

Without a word he handed it over to her.

Bernie moved her sights from the boy to the flower, no crushed petals or messed up stem as she carefully moved to take a hold of the flower. Once she hand it at hand she clutched the flower protectively to her chest.

It was beautiful.

She looked up, her mouth opening to say something, most likely a thank you, but was met with nothing but empty air.

That night she pressed the magenta zinnia between two books. Going to her garden that next morning she looked all day for a purple daisy and a full grown lavender stalk before pressing them as well.

She still keeps the dried up lavender and daisy in a small pouch in her closet, not wanting any of the maids to throw them away.

She didn’t want anyone to take these precious treasures.


	4. Coneflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coneflower - A flower that is favored for songbirds they are given to a healer by the Goddess when they begged the Goddess to save their daughter. A flower of both pure healing magic and strength are often gifted for the ill and are said to help preform miracles if one was gifted one.

The fourth visit was in four months past the third meeting. Summer came and went and fall changed the color of the land from a sea green to a valley of sunset: colors of gold, red, and orange filled the lands. More noticeably the land grew to be colder each passing day, clothing was layered and trees were cut in order to store in their wood. Then winter came soon after and the land was covered in thin lines of frost.

Bernadetta liked the cold, not from the reason of being outside but it always gave her the excuse to curl inside her room and never come out. She would always bundle inside the warmth of her blankets, sew her new found friend, and hum a soft tone in which no one would come and tell her to stop wasting her time to do something far more productive. Winter was the only time in which her Father would leave with Mother further south of the Empire for weeks and never come back until the first flower blossoms in spring.

At first she hated to be left behind, with no one to play with and tutors to watch over her lessons. She felt trapped. However, as she grew more and more, even at the age of seven she knew that her Father is someone that she should fear. Even when she felt guilty over her actions she would still sneak a small quick prayer to the Goddess to make time go faster for winter to come.

_Even if it meant a slap on the face or his roar ringing through her ears._

_It's fine. This is fine._

However, as much as she loves and always greets the winter cold, she also forgot that she had to be careful. Not two weeks in since her Father and Mother left and she was bedridden for having a fever.

‘Stupid Berine,’ she squeaked her eyes shut. ‘You can’t do anything right can you?’

She had only wanted to see the greenhouse one more time. She didn’t expect to trip over the watering can at all! Stupid clumsy worthless Bernie!

Whimpering, she buried herself further in her soft wool blankets.

After her little trip and cry she was found by the maids who quickly rushed her to take a warm bath in order to stop from becoming sick but was proven fruitless when by the next morning she was found shivering and feverish.

At the moment she was left alone with a bell placed on her bedside in case she needed anything. Still, she favored ignoring the bell in order not to bother anyone and used this time to cuddle with a hand stitched teddy bear that one of the maids gifted her. It was a cute thing, fur of pure white and eyes that were lace purple and a bow of lavender.

Snuggling with the stuffed toy she let her mind wander far, far to the boy with the same color eyes and same color hair as the bow.

“I wonder,” she whispered into the soft fur of snow.

“Wonder what?”

Eyes went wide again as she was quick to yelp and hide under her sheets, ignoring the heat in her cheeks and struggled to stutter out. “W-wh-what ar-re y-y-y-ou doni-ing he-he-here!”

She couldn’t see him but she felt the bed shift and could practically hear him smirking as he asked. “What,” he mocked. “Am I not allowed to visit any more?”

Something froze in her chest.

“No!” She shouted, flinging the sheets off of her. With a pout she faced the lavender boy with a rare blue moon occurrence of her eyes showing strong determination and will, willing for him to understand that she didn’t want him to go, to leave her alone.

She doesn’t want to be alone.

Lavender boy looked to be in shock by her declaration. His eyes were wide, his lips opening in a small ‘o’ as he stared, unblinking at her.

And they sat there, staring at each other for a few moments.

Before Bernadette squeaked and rushed to hide under the covers again.

And Lavender boy laughed.

This time he stayed, not just to coaxes to get her out of her sheet covers but to also stay and actually talk with her. He didn’t disappear in the first minute or the next three or the first ten and Bernadette felt relaxed that she didn’t care if she was no longer wrapped in her protective shield. She was exposed in her pajamas and him in a cape of fur, long sleeve wool, and winter boots as he tied his hair in a bun. This time, his signature flower happened to be a fall season flower - Coneflowers. Decorated on the edges of his cape, many surrounding his bun, and one pinned at the pocket of his shirt front. Bernie noticed by now how he always liked to wear something of a flower theme, in awe at the full bloomed Coneflowers and Lavender boy smiled at her joy.

The sun was setting and Bernie knew that meant that a maid would come soon to bring in her dinner. For once she did not find the joy in eating dinner alone or the fact she didn’t have to go to the dining room. She wanted to stay here, where it is safe and warm and isolated from the rest of the world.

Where she had Lavender boy by her side and how it felt so easy to talk with him even when words seem to fail her at times or how he never made a face of impatience, disgust, or pity at her. She wanted to stay like this, she wanted to stay with Lanvande boy.

Lavender boy…

Now that she thought about it...

“Uh,” she mumbled as she tried to get her mouth to move, lips sticking like glue.

“Yes,” the boy raised an eyebrow. Soft, kind, patient.

Nothing like Father.

“Uh,” she tried again. Seeing as she couldn’t speak she raised the sheets of her bed high up her face as she looked away with ears tipped red. “I… do you have a name?”

One, two, three seconds pass by.

And it was then that the words that she spoke were fully comprehended by the two purple heads.

Lavender boy covered his mouth with his hand, willing and mostly failing as he tried to control his laughter from the absurd but simple question. Bernadette had favored curling up into a ball under her sheets as she prayed for death.

Finally as the Lavender boy’s laughter started to die down Bernie could feel the bed shift once more with the unexpected weight lost as what she assumed was Lavender boy getting off. Before she could do anything to blubber out anything else she heard something that was close to a soft whisper.

“It’s Yuri.”

The sound of the dinner bell rang soon after.

Dinner was quick and silent, no one stopping her or telling her to slow down her fast pace and she was soon tucked off to bed.

Bernadette smiled as she clutched onto the Coneflower she found lying at the spot the boy was once at. Cheeks giving off a soft glow of rose she moved to press two books on the purple flower before closing her eyes in bliss.

“A purple lily, huh?”


	5. Crocus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crocus - flowers born from the laughter of children, a story of how memories of younger days come from drinking the sweet nectar, a flower of pure unbounding innocence's.

Days used to be counted by the moon cycle. Where every time the moon does a complete cycle they would be called that a season and the seasons themselves will be called the sun cycles. But people change and history is rewritten. Now there are twelve moons with a number of days that they don’t change. There are no more sun cycles but they are replaced by time and seasons. Days used to be hard to follow so whenever someone was born they would always tell you the sun cycle and the moon cycle. However now all you have to say the title of the moon and the numbered day they were born.

And for Bernadetta that is the 12th of the Ethereal Moon. A winter season.

Bernadetta never expected anything for her day of birth, the only gift she ever truly accepted was that Father was away and won’t come back until spring comes. Freedom was a blessing. Still it did not stop the servants from making something nice for her. Her favorite dishes would be on the table, a cup of Albinean Berry tea, and a rare spring peach cake. The halls will smell fresh of flowers, trinkets will be placed in her hand, and happy well wishes. Small things compared to the extravagant balls and noble dinners she would hear her Father would attend when other noble children will have their day of birth. But she doesn’t mind, she doesn’t like the attention. 

_ And yet… _

This year’s day of birth was not so different this time around. Eight and still hardly taller than last year. Eight and still hardly smarter than last year. Eight and still as lonely as last year.

Nothing has changed.

But at least she has spring peach cake. 

So when she walked towards her chambers she didn't know whether or not to be surprised when she saw lavender at the corner of her vision.

She still squeaks and steps back a step or two.

Lavender boy - no wait - Yuri only blinked at her, a light shining across his eyes as he did so. 

“Ah,” she tried. “Your… back?”

Lav-Yuri raised an eyebrow. “It seems so.”

Yuri was standing in the halls with much thinner clothes than she had seen him in before. His boots were gone and so was his coat. Instead a long sleeve under shirt of white was covered by a tunic of gentle sunset purple. His pants were a darker purple, one of a magenta hue. His hair was tied to a bun, one that had a braid surrounding it and on the side. Crocus was tucked with his bun, a necklace of flowers looped twice on his neck.

Bernie blushed before looking away, speeding her steps from asking a stupid question. Why did she ask again? She should have stayed quiet and not said anything.

Too deep in her self loathing she did not see the wall in front of her until a hand grabbed her arm from running into it. Bernie stopped, blinking in confusion before squealing when she noticed what she almost did. Her hands quickly became glued to her face, no longer pale but an array of reds.

“Where do you think you're going?” Berine heard, thin ribbons of amusement directed at her. When she did not move she felt a tug from her elbow. Not knowing what to do but trusting Yuri, she did not resist. “Come on. Your room is this way. We don’t want you to hit any more walls now do we?”

Bernie whined but said nothing. 

Idly they walked through the halls of the estate, soft pattern of bare feet and dress shoes hitting the shiny floor. Yuri was in front, having led Bernie to her room. Bernie on the other hand was slowly uncovering her face, hands coming down to uncover her face that was cooling down. Yuri, seeing this, moved from grabbing a hold of her elbow to her wrist. 

Bernie didn’t say anything but she did not fully accept the help. Her shoulders stiffen and she could feel the slight shiver of her body as she felt the hand over her wrist. 

Felt the hand over her wrist.

The hand over her wrist.

Her wrist.

_ Wrist. _

_ “Don’t you know anything!” _

_ “I can’t have my heir dragging down our noble title!” _

_ “You will do it right!” _

_ “Am I clear!!!!” _

_ “...I’m sorry….” _

“Hey hey hey. It’s okay now.”

_ ‘Okay? No… no no no no no! He’s here! He’s coming to get her!!’ _

“You're safe now. You're safe.”

_ ‘Nowhere is safe!! Nowhere is safe!!!’ _

“It’s just me now. Just me and you. No one else.”

_ ‘Not for long, not for long!!’ _

“Take a deep breath. A deep breath now.”

Instinctively she took a deep breath.

And she inhaled a whole garden.

Her senses were overflowing with tiger lilies, oranges, alyssums, and lemons. Tangy and sweet. Sour but savory. Night skies of deep blue meadows and fallen cherry trees. Glowing sunsets over a vast ocean and the sky with wind whipping through the morning light. 

She felt warm, happy even. 

She exhaled and looked up. 

Lavender eyes stared at her, understanding and sadness laced in them.

What was she supposed to say?

She didn’t move but she felt so tired.

As if hearing her thoughts, Yuri moved. His hands pushed her gently down onto her bed, her bed she didn’t realize she got on. Moving her hair and pulling up a blanket of wool he covered her before laying down besides her. Without a word he slowly moved to grab her right hand.

She said nothing but she did not let go.

He didn’t pull back.

She woke up with a small purple Crocus flower in her hand.


	6. Sweet Pea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Pea - a flowers of deep departure, giving to loved ones as they journey far from home or to war. The Goddess once gave her first child this flower as she turned to leave and said, “May good fortune come for you my daughter, for I will forever thank you for loving me as I have for you. Goodbye love, but come back to me when fate says it's time to return home. “

Day than weeks than years. Season changes, the sun fades, and the moon always comes back again.

Just like Yuri. 

Bernadetta learned to accept the mystery that is Yuri. The boy of ever-changing flowers and forever endless lavender. 

It was not to say that Yuri was a complete mystery. He would talk with her about himself if she asked, and at times, with his own merits. She learned that Yuri can garden just as well as she can, his fingers were agile given the many times she saw him twirl her feathered pens to the dangers hanging on the walls. He can sing just as sweet as his smiles but would scrunch up his nose at any cat or dog that they manage to encounter. He has a sharp tongue that he uses at some of the servants and her parents at any given chance he can get. However, he does have a silent sweet tooth to pair alongside such comments. He genuinely enjoys playing chess and watching the horses at any given time.

But he was also invisible to the world around her. Whenever a servant enters the same room as her and Yuri, she always has to learn to calm herself down and not panic like she did the first time it happened. It was a shock to her poor heart that she didn’t do anything but stare at the door before looking at Yuri when the maid asked why she was talking by herself.

He merely smiled and shrugged.

She learns not to ask questions after that.

Bernadetta was skittish but she wasn’t dumb. She saw the way that some of the servants looked at her when she talked to Yuri and asked why she was talking to herself. She was always aware of how the boy would disappear and appear whenever he wanted. She noticed the way he could touch and move objects but was never seen if someone was to look his way and never see the priceless Empire China teacup he was holding. 

He was a ghost to everyone but to her, he was her friend.

At least that was what Yuri said when she asked.

But she didn’t, didn’t care for what others may think. Because Yuri was the only thing that was keeping her from thinking of her caged life.

When the lessons with Father came to an end Yuri would be there and leading her away from the pain of that day. Days that left her with her Mother always lead to the day in the garden and stables. If no one asked for her attention then Yuri will steal her away from the servants and the day would be theirs to do as they please. 

Sometimes they would play, others they would laze around, most of the time they would teach each other. Teach what, it always depends on them. 

Bernie would teach Yuri how to care for and tend to the flower with her, somehow knowing more than he did. She would show him how to play with her instruments which was going pretty well, unlike his sewing. Disaster. 

Yuri likes to teach her how to hide well and stay silent on her toes which she picked up pretty quickly. He also got into the habit of teaching her magic as well. At first, it was reason magic that she did manage to learn well enough, but it wasn’t until she froze the carnivorous plants she cared for with Blizzard did she focus her time on faith magic instead. Surprisingly she had a talent with magic which became pretty useful when Father got too rough on some days. 

(Even though Yuri always heals the bigger bruises because he still won't let her heal anything beyond a cut.)

However, it was the riding lessons that really took the strawberry pastry. 

Horses were something that both she and Yuri seemed to tolerate when it came to animals. 

Horses were loyal, strong, and were their only escape from the House without drawing any suspicion from her Father. It didn’t mean they could go every day but it was a start.

Yuri was gentle when she was scared at first and why wouldn’t she? They were big and tall and they could easily stomp her and squish her like a pancake!

It took time and some bribing before she could even set foot in the stables.

She has never regretted it ever since. 

Horses were not as scary as she thought they were.

Riding became one of her favorite past times soon after. 

Another thing that became her new normal is the flowers she finds whenever she wakes up from her slumber. The flowers were all the same, however: lavenders, daisies, zinnias, crocus, and coneflowers. She never tired of them though, she learned to press them and keep them sealed in an empty notebook. Sometimes there is one flower and other times there would be a boutique. One of the maids got suspicious when she saw her bed covered in petals and asked the gardener if she got those flowers from the greenhouse. Bernadetta managed a panicky yes. She didn’t believe her from the look she was giving her and she walked off to go see the greenhouse herself.

Both of their jaws dropped when half of the greenhouse was indeed covered in the same purple flower that was in her bed. 

Purple flowers soon become one of her favorite things to grow now. She will always love carnivorous plants first but purple flowers were her new found favorite. 

So years went by and she became nine, then ten, then eleven. She became a sister at twelve, a lady at thirteen, and was starting to be left with her tutors more than her Father presents at fourteen.

It was at fifteen did she get news. 

“Yuri?”

Yuri, strong, faithful, unmovable Yuri flinched at the betrayal in her voice.

“I’m sorry.”

Bernadetta’s skin turned cold. Yuri never says sorry.

“You said you would always stay with me.”

“I did.” He said. “I will.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

His face pinched. “I don’t have a choice.”

Then. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll come back.”

“You don’t have to if you stay.”

He pressed his lips. “I wish I could.”

He hugged her and in turn, she cried in his embrace.

When she woke up from the morning light she saw a single sweet pea flower in his place.

She clutched her fist when she realized what the flower meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realized I was listening to Lizz Robinett’s version of Xion’s theme on Youtube when I was writing this and by god why did I do this to myself. TEARS!
> 
> Spells Bernie can learn is Heal, nosferatu, physics - blizzard, thunder, thoron. She currently knows Heal and Blizzard.


	7. Columbine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Columbine - The goddess cupped a flower in her hands and weep upon the flower of foolishness and naive, one that showed the self inflicting punishment of the goddess and she watched her children get killed off one by one, a representation of having done wrong.

It’s been three years now. Three long years that he longed for to speed through and end quickly so that he may go back to the ones he was meant to protect, the ones he was tied to, the ones he missed the most.

But he wasn't going to say that out loud now, was he. If he even dared to say a single word of his thoughts, well….

“Aren’t you excited to see that lady friend of yours, eh, Yuri?”

That would happen.

Not even bothering to hold back his sigh this time around, Yuri rubbed his eye with more than just a slight bit of irritation. Honestly, you get lost in thought _once_ and suddenly you get outed for missing his “lady friend” and “little brother” when your charge is _not_ , in fact, your “lady friend” or “little brother”.

(Although he does miss Bernadetta and Ashe more than he would care to admit. But nobody needs to know that.)

“For the last time Balthus, Bern is not my lady friend.”

Balthus, the insufferable muscled build man, laughed in a booming manner. “Whatever you say, whatever you say.”

Yuri held back his sigh but he did not hold back his hand as he dragged it over his face.

A third voice popped in. “Are you done?”

“Please,” Yuri begged.

“Then since we all agree, we should all meet again soon. Deadlines the Red Wolf Moon. Anything in between is your time to do as you do. Just finish the job as you will”

“Well, this should be easy for me!” Balthus boasted. “My girls will definitely get along before even the Garland Moon!”

“Humph!” Constance finally put her say into this mess. You may be the fastest to get your charges to “bond” but it won’t even be excused to your brute way of forcing upon them. If anything, they would be at each other's faces with nails sharpen in all their glory.”

“You're just bitter because you can’t even get your charges to agree on meeting one another.”

“Well, at least I’m not a barbarian with such gentle ladies! You honestly think that two noblewomen would be sipping tea and sharing their House’ secrets in the waxing of two full moons?!”

“I-”

“Doesn’t matter how you do it,” Hapi’s eyes dropped, a sign that she wanted to sigh but was holding back. “As long as you get it done by the eight moons then nothing matters. You do your way Coco and B can do his way.”

“It-”

“Now now Constance,” Yuri waved a hand to calm her down. “Balthus is a man who dies from debts, after all, you can’t exactly expect him to do it the slow way now can you.”

“Hey!”

“And we all know how your charges are so no one can’t say you got the short stick of the deal.”

“Ugh!”

“Now then,” Yuri tapped a finger to his chin. “All that said and done I believe it's time to part ways once again.”

“Wha-Hey!”

“Bye now.” Yuri smiled with a glint in his eyes. Picking a flower from the field before him he turned and he left the three wolves behind him: a gasping blonde, a wolf-whistling man, and a tired-looking redhead. 

Ignoring them he closed his eyes once before opening them again.

Again, just like all his travels, he saw color. Not the dull colors of the day sky or autumn brown leaves, bright pure colors that can only be matched from once in a blue moon. Blacks that glow, bright pinks that shadows, green into neon. White blurred his vision while red seemed to retain it once again. He can feel the bright bubbling energy of yellow on his cheeks and the sinking sorrow of blue grabbing at his feet to drag him in. Swirling all sides of him, he could not see the world but the mass brightness it seems to contain within it.

To a mortal person, this would be the place of all-knowing, to Yuri, it's simply a walkway.

Then purple filled his vision, a dark deep shade of violet that only he knew the meaning of. 

Yuri dropped gently down on the border-like walls. A cobblestone barrier that was polished and shining with clear bits of magic and glass. One leg over the other he let his head drop onto his hand as he watched silently at the view in front of him. 

The grass was gaining color from the winter month, the slight cold mountain breeze weaving and waving the blades into a solemn song. A stone path was set in place, on the lead a spider web of ways to travel the small open area. A glass dome made from the hands of man was a crystal entertainment with a flourishing jungle captured inside of it, protected from the world of the outside like a priceless cage. Spots of rose pink and bits of fire red blurred through the glass to give the greenery color, however, it was the color of plum that overpowered the small trapped world. A color he knew was planted on purpose.

In the middle was yet another purple plum. Not in the shade of midnight nor the shade of milky white but a deep shade of violet. Strands of messy hair made his fingers itch to smoothed them, melted gray eyes still dating whichever way, long slender fingers that fiddle and twitch inhabit.

His eyes softened without his consent as he felt a weight over his chest falter and released him from its clutches. 

The girl, no, the young lady turned to move back towards the stone pathway and made small steps. The sound of stone on leather was almost unheard like the silent footsteps of a phantom thief in the night before she disappeared behind the pillars of marble lined all over the outer area.

With the only person able to see him looking away he let the small slip of a smile grace his angelic features before he let his words, merely a whisper compared to the feelings swirling inside of him, carry away with the wind. 

“I’m home Bernie.”

He realized the small columbine flower. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Yuri might be looking over Bernie but he was also looking over Ashe when he wasn't with her. Don't @ me I was planning on adding Ashe from the beginning any ways >^<


End file.
